Reconciliation
by Kizzykat
Summary: This takes place immediately after Hephaestion's quarrel with Craterus, and is a prequel to ‘Forgiveness’. Thanks for reading.


**Reconciliation by Kizzykat**

_No mushy bits, sorry. Don't know if this works._

Hephaestion stared numbly out over the lush Indian plain as he stood under the rolled up flap of his tent, the cold remnants of anger lying heavily in his stomach. His heart was a tightly clenched fist of pain in his chest, his mind shocked into paralysis.

Nothing. Alexander had said he was nothing. Nothing without him.

The words echoed in the black emptiness inside his head, sinking like poisoned darts into his twisted heart.

Nothing. His thoughts could not encompass the infinity of such a word. And the word defined him. Everything he was. Nothing.

The words obliterated almost the whole of his life, cut him off at the knees and left him lying helpless and bleeding in the dust. He had built the whole of his life on a lie, a shadow. All he was was a shadow – Alexander's shadow - that disappeared without him.

He had always known he was not Alexander's equal: not by blood, by birth, by privilege, or by gifts. But he had always thought that Alexander valued him for their shared ideals, if not for the love between them.

Yet a moment of anger had shown him what Alexander truly thought of him. How little he valued him; how little he set by the contribution he had made to Alexander's achievements. How dispensable he was.

He'd always know he would never have reached the heights of power he had without Alexander's favour – he lacked the ruthlessness of many men. Yet would I not have been something without you, Alexander?

Hephaestion's spirit sank to his knees in the dust, shoulders bowed, hands covering his face in despair. Yet all he did in body was to close his eyes against the heat shimmering across the plain: it was making him dizzy.

He opened his eyes; the blackness behind them making him afraid, and, needing to touch something solid, he raised his hand and gripped the tent pole beside him. He gripped it so tightly the pressure hurt his hand.

He drew in his breath and turned –as Alexander entered his tent from the campsite entrance.

Alexander, having ducked to pass under the flap, looked across at Hephaestion from under his brows, and Hephaestion knew he was still angry, though trying not to show it. The embers of his own anger stirred in his gut.

Alexander stood and stared at Hephaestion, opened his mouth to speak, and then seemed to think better of it. His gaze wandered uncertainly for a moment before focusing as he visibly drew a deep breath.

"How do I say I'm sorry?" he asked. There was gentleness in his voice, but it lacked the depth of sincerity and contrition.

Hephaestion stared back at him silently. He knew he should say something to ease Alexander's guilt, act like he didn't care, hide his hurt, but he couldn't unloosen his tongue. He could find nothing to say, even though his silence was unforgiving. He turned away, and began untying his sword belt. It was a gesture of appeasement, if nothing else.

"Hephaestion," Alexander said, stepping forward quickly, a hand outstretched in a plea for understanding, "you know I always say and do things too hastily, things I don't mean. You know what I'm like."

Hephaestion turned his head to stare at Alexander. His friend, not his king, was there, but there was a cold lump where Hephaestion's heart should be. "Do I?" he said coldly, and moved to lay his sword on the chest where his weapons were stored.

"Of course you do! You know I always lose my temper too quickly," Alexander said, following him across the tent.

"Do you?" Hephaestion said very quietly as he began untying the thongs that held his corslet.

"I didn't mean it, Hephaestion, you know I didn't, but you were shouting at me! You were arguing with me in public!"

Hephaestion's head came up, his eyes blazing. "Nothing I have not done a hundred times before, Alexander."

"But you told me I didn't know what was going on under my own nose! And then you called me a bloody fool in front of the Persians! And the Indians!"

Hephaestion stared at Alexander in shock. He'd forgotten he'd done that.

"It's alright in front of the Macedonians!" Alexander said with rising vehemence. "The Greeks too! They understand the freedom of speech my men have a right to, but not the Persians! They were horrified. They don't understand why I haven't had your tongue cut out and fed to you! And then had you impaled for good measure! You had a naked sword in your hand, Hephaestion. They thought you were about to kill me! At the very least, they saw it as a gross insult!"

Horrified, Hephaestion stared at Alexander, his innards crawling with anger and revulsion. "I apologise," he said stiffly, not recognising his own voice. Involuntarily, he backed away from Alexander.

"Damn your apologies!" Alexander cried in anger. "I don't want your apologies! It's Craterus you should be apologising to, not me! He's the one you almost killed! Where are you going?"

Hephaestion stopped dead in mid-step, his head up like a horse that had been reined in too sharply. "To apologise to Craterus," he said, his voice taut with anger.

"I haven't finished with you yet!"

Alexander's voice hung in the air like the crack of a whip, and Hephaestion turned back to face him, his eyes wide, no thought in his head except to face this stranger he did not know.

A change came over Alexander's face, the sharp tension dissipating so that he looked less dangerous. "I'm sorry," he said. "As a king I should have said that: as a friend, I should not."

Hephaestion continued to stare at him across the tent, as tightly strung as a bowstring, his eyes enormous, his lips a white, tightly shut line.

Alexander could not bring himself to come any nearer despite the pain he could see quivering like a flung knife beneath the surface of Hephaestion's eyes. He was too angry to come any nearer, and he knew Hephaestion was too angry to let him. He could strike like lightning.

"Hephaestion," Alexander said, trying desperately to control his temper as he kept his voice level. "I am trying to apologise. I am trying to explain to you. I was just trying to shut you up."

A small change came over Hephaestion's face and Alexander no longer quite felt like he was trying to reach something untouchable. But Hephaestion's lips still did not move, nor did he stir from his fixed position.

"You'd already almost started a riot, Hephaestion. What would I have done if fighting had broken out? Who would have stopped it? Soldiers against soldiers, they would have taken sides! And then how would they have fought side by side against an enemy? We could have been overwhelmed, the whole expedition in jeopardy!"

His voice so strained it cracked his vocal chords, Hephaestion said, "You haven't asked me why."

Alexander moved impatiently, dismissively. "I've already heard Craterus's side. Do you have anything different to add?"

"No." Hephaestion had no wish to hear what Craterus had said.

"Then what, in the name of all that's holy, did you think you were doing, Hephaestion?"

"The same as you were doing with Cleitus two years ago! Arguing, as men do!"

Alexander, flicked to the raw, froze for just a split second, but it was enough for Hephaestion to pursue his advantage.

"Neither of us would have gone any further, Alexander! We are not fools! Have you never seen two dogs circling each other? Growling, and fangs bared? That's all it was! Nine times out of ten the noise and the show are enough are enough to settle matters! We were not drunk! We would have backed off!"

Alexander's eyes were black with fury. "Like I did not with Cleitus? What happens on the tenth time?"

"Then you would have been less one general!"

Alexander stared at Hephaestion, nostrils flared, teeth gritted. "I would have been less one friend," he said darkly. "And right now, the friend that survived would have been too dangerous to keep."

Hephaestion's head came up, the muscle along his jawline clenching.

"What? Just because you bite my head off," he said, taunting Alexander, "you expect me to lay down and die? I am a warrior, Alexander, as you have trained me to be, not some weak-kneed boy who will lay down at your feet and die if you say so. Give me the credit of being able to settle my own quarrels!"

Alexander's presence loomed large in the confines of the tent. "That is not your province, Hephaestion, where it concerns my army."

"My army too," Hephaestion muttered darkly. He turned away, pulled his corslet off over his head and dropped it on the bed. Ultimately he knew he was in the wrong, but he was still too angry to admit it and forgive Alexander for insulting and belittling him in front of the whole army.

"What did you say?" Alexander asked in a tight voice.

Hephaestion looked over his shoulder darkly at Alexander. "Have I not done as much as you to shape and mould this army at your behest, Alexander?"

For a moment, Alexander's eyes burned with black fire. Then he cocked his head, gazing steadily at Hephaestion for a long moment.

"This is getting us nowhere, Hephaestion," he said at last. "I have forgiven you. As far as I am concerned, it has never happened, and will never happen again. Craterus knows that, and I'm sure you do too. But how do I persuade you to forgive me for having to act like a king?"

Hephaestion shot Alexander a sharp glance. "I forgive you, Alexander," he said, and turned his back on him. He stood by his bed, staring down at his corslet that still held the shape of his body and seemed to have a life of its own.

"Don't lie to me, Hephaestion!" Alexander said, his voice rising with a hint of threat as he stood immovably on the other side of the tent. "You have never lied to me in your life. Do not start now!"

Hephaestion raised his head. He had had enough of this and wanted it to end. He wanted Alexander to go away and leave him alone.

"What do you want, Alexander?" he asked tiredly.

"I'm not leaving here until you forgive me!"

Hephaestion whirled round to face Alexander. "Then we'll both have a damned long wait, won't we!"

For an instant, they glared at each other in stunned silence, hearing only each other's laboured breathing. Then Hephaestion turned stiffly, went to the far side of the tent and threw himself into a chair with an angry exhalation of breath. He interlaced his fingers and refused to look at Alexander.

Alexander stared at him with a mixture of anger and disbelief for a moment. Then he walked to the side table, turned two cups up the right way, unstoppered the flask of wine and poured them both a cupful. Silently, he walked over to Hephaestion and handed him one.

Hephaestion took it without a word, not looking up at Alexander, who took a sip from his own cup before walking away to sit in another chair. Alexander took a thoughtful swallow from his cup, watching Hephaestion, who hadn't touched his.

"Would you kill me?" Alexander asked quietly. "If you'd had enough of me as your king, would you kill me?"

Hephaestion didn't answer, but his jaw tightened. He knew what Alexander was doing – redirecting him, trying to divert him into thinking of things from a different angle.

"You're the one wearing a sword, Alexander."

"Then I'll take it off." He set down his cup and began untying his sword.

"Right now, Alexander," Hephaestion said, forestalling him, "I don't even want to hear your voice. Please go." He still wouldn't raise his eyes to Alexander, but he raised a hand and rubbed at his forehead with his fingertips, trying to dispel the tension there. "And the answer to your question is: yes, I would." Hephaestion wondered vaguely if he had just signed his own death warrant.

Alexander was still for a moment, absorbing this piece of information, which he found was no great surprise to him. He had known for some time that Hephaestion was potentially his greatest enemy, and that he had created him, for he had given him all his secrets.

"Then you should know," he said in a voice suffused with profound regret, "that if you ever became a threat to me, Hephaestion, I would not hesitate."

Hephaestion, his hand shading his closed eyelids, said quietly, "I know that. That is why you are Alexander: and I am not."

Alexander waited, waited for some softening in Hephaestion's armour that would let him in, but there was nothing.

"Don't do this, Hephaestion," he asked at last.

"Do what?" Hephaestion asked with weary resignation, but he would still not look at Alexander or uncover his eyes.

"Shut me out like this."

With an impatient sigh, Hephaestion removed his hand, his gaze roaming around the tent, anywhere but where Alexander was. "I need time, Alexander."

Alexander nodded silently, and swallowed painfully. Recovering his breath, he stood and said, "I would like to see you and Craterus friends tonight at dinner: my most honoured friends."

Hephaestion stirred, vaguely puzzled, struggling to remember for a moment what Craterus had got to do with this. He'd forgotten all about him. "I have nothing against Craterus," he said, his voice rough.

"No," Alexander murmured. He walked slowly across the tent and stood looking down at Hephaestion's bowed head, hoping vainly that he would look up. He did not, and Alexander raised his hand, palm outstretched to hover over Hephaestion's hair. Longingly, he smoothed the vacant air above Hephaestion's head.

"Don't forget to forgive yourself as well as me, Hephaestion," he whispered, before turning and walking quickly from the tent.

Hephaestion sat hunched in the chair, feeling like a stubborn pile of shit.

"I forgive you, Alexander," he whispered forlornly.


End file.
